


the Grimm Adventures of Poptart and Clementine

by nervoussis



Series: the Hargrove Terrors [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Billy Hargrove, Bubble Bath, Domestic Fluff, Grumpy Billy Hargrove, He's soft though, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Steve Harrington, parents!harringrove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26432593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervoussis/pseuds/nervoussis
Summary: There was no denying it; Clementine, his oldest by three minutes--the belle of his heart, the spitting image of the love of his life--had started to grow up and, as Billy so gently reminded him, they had to give her room to make her own decisions.So they took baby steps toward letting go.Any time Steve came within an inch of suggesting he braid her hair or they go get ice cream together, Clementine would put her foot down--no baby stuff, in big bold letters right across Steve's heart.It was smooth sailing until she informed them with all too much finality that bath time was a thing of the past. That Billy and Steve could shelve that concept right up their asses, next to binkies and baby stuff on the dusty shelf labeled 'best years of your lives.'(or) Billy and Steve try to give their child a bath.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: the Hargrove Terrors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926358
Comments: 22
Kudos: 145





	the Grimm Adventures of Poptart and Clementine

**Author's Note:**

> The entire concept for this fic comes from the deeply niche and personal experience of my baby sister suddenly doing anything to get out of bath time. 
> 
> S/O to lilpeas for inspiring the series title! Please enjoy 🖤
> 
> There’s also a mood board for this over on tumblr (because I’m a clown):  
> https://passivenovember.tumblr.com/post/629111854728462336/the-gimm-adventures-of-poptart-and-clementine

She turned four, like all kids do. Outgrew, over night, the things that used to be necessity in her tiny universe--important things like her pink giraffe and sparkly red shoes--and Steve cried about it in the laundry room during her birthday party when she rejected the shiny kitten heels he had ordered special. 

_Red shoes are for babies._

That's what Clementine said when she gingerly tore the wrapping paper off the sleek box, nose screwing up like Billy and Steve had gifted her a pile of shit rather than a new pair of her favorite things on Earth. Billy's arms had tightened around Steve's waist when Samuel snatched them from his twin sister.

_I'll wear them, Dad._

That's what he'd said, bless him. So Steve agreed to buy a dress to match, no doubt the first of many. The smile that spread itself across Sam's face had been worth the harsh realization that they were growing up too goddamn fast. Any smile they made because of him, well. He was greedy for the feeling--at least one of their kids still wanted to be seen with him in public and Billy thought it was sweet that Clementine asked Samuel to trade for his pair of Doc Martens.

 _You get the baby shoes, I get the boots--_ to which the kid answered with a vague wave of his hand.

Steve locked himself in the bathroom and cried after that. There was no denying it; Clementine, his oldest by three minutes--the belle of his heart, the spitting image of the love of his life--had started to grow up and, as Billy so gently reminded him, they had to give her room to make her own decisions.

"Clem's old enough now to start telling us what she wants and we have to respect it." Billy had said over dishes that night. "Besides; can't really be upset when the kid's turning out to be such a badass."

"Just like her old man," Steve had teased. And then, thickly; "Yeah, okay."

So they took baby steps toward letting go.

Clementine started picking out her own clothes and doing her own hair which. Okay. Samuel let Steve dress him and that was enough. Any time Steve came within an _inch_ of suggesting he braid her hair or they go get ice cream together, Clementine would put her foot down-- **no baby stuff,** in big bold letters right across Steve's heart. It hurt but they respected her wishes whole heartedly, reluctant to become carbon copies of their own parents.

And it went smoothly for a while. Great, even, as Clementine relaxed into her new-found identity. Steve and Billy were just happy that their kids were happy.

So, yeah.

Smooth sailing until she informed them with all too much finality that bath time was a thing of the past.

That Billy and Steve could shelve that concept right up their asses, next to binkies and baby stuff on the dusty shelf labeled _best years of your lives._

Billy choked on his spit.

"Absolutely _not,_ Clem." He yanked the towel from his shoulder and pointed it at her, speaking loudly over the sound of Samuel splashing around during the final minutes of his bath. "Your brothers just finishing up and you _will_ get in that tub. Wash your hair _and_ scrub behind your ears. Got it?"

"Nope." She said smugly. Just like her dad.

Steve watched Billy's nostrils flare. "Why the hell not?" He huffed.

Clementine sat up from her spot on the floor. Poptart, their golden retriever, whined in protest. "Bath time is for babies, Daddy. I'm a big girl now, remember?"

Samuel rounded the corner then. The spitting image of Steve, all wild brown hair popping up from the lip of his green ducky towel. He made a run for the couch, kneeing Steve directly in the balls as he tried to tackle his sister to the floor.

"I took a bath," Sam hollered. "I used Daddy's pear body wash. I smell like a fruit pie."

Billy's eyes went wide. "See! Samuel knows that grown ups like to smell good. Only babies smell like poop, right Dad?"

Steve lurched to life, reluctant to be thrown in the middle.

"Yep," He told Clem. "You don't wanna smell like a diaper, do ya?"

She thought about it.

"I don't smell like a diaper," Sam tugged the towel closer to his shoulders, grinning. "I smell squeaky clean. Like dish soap. Is that good, Dad?"

Steve cradled him to his chest. Made a big show of ticking the kid as he sniffed at that wild head of hair. "You smell good, string bean." Steve said over the giggles.

"You _smell_ like a baby," Clementine reported, obviously bored with this conversation. "Probably 'cause you are one."

Sam's face went red. "Am not!"

"Are too, butthole--"

 _"Language."_ Billy grumbled. He flung himself down on the couch next to Steve, pulling him close. "What do you think, Dad? Should we let our kids run around smelling like a pack of used underwear?"

Both Steve and Sam laughed at that.

Clementine didn't. The situation was very serious.

With a fire that rivaled Billy's from all those years ago, she frowned. 

"If I wanna smell like poop, then I'll smell like poop." Clem puffed out her chest. "What are you gonna do? Force me?" And with that she stormed out of the room on sure, solid feet, ignoring Poptart as he clambered nosily behind her. 

\--

It continued in the same way for three days.

Every night Samuel played with his rubber duckies in the bathtub, splashing happily as he dutifully cleaned behind his ears and every night Clementine refused to take a bath. Steve was a little less strict about it. Always wiping his hands on his shirt and declaring _okay, but you'll have to get up early to wash before school,_ a threat he never made good on.

Billy was much more aggressive.

Swore a lot and threatened to spank her if she didn't, another threat they never made good on. Billy and Steve would never hit their kids, it just.

Wasn't in the cards for them. Neil, and all that.

Still, didn't stop Billy from snarling and baring his teeth.

Clementine bared her teeth right back--if that kid didn't present as Alpha Steve would be genuinely surprised.

By the third night they couldn't take it anymore. She had gone from smelling like sweat and playdough to downright _smelling_ _._ Luckily, or maybe unluckily, it was Billy's turn to supervise wash night and as Steve sat gingerly on the floor with Clementine, braiding Poptart's hair with pretty little bows, Billy charged into the living room and scooped her up in a towel.

Clementine's scream was deafening. "Lemme go, lemme _go_ you stinky butthead!"

Steve couldn't help but chuckle.

"Time for a bath, short stop." Billy carried their child, kicking and screaming, all the way to the bathroom where he plunked her down on the toilet. Steve watched from the door way as Clem swung blindly, blanket stuck over her head, tiny fist narrowly missing Billy's jaw.

"Got a mean right hook," Steve said as he untangled her from the trap.

Clementine's face was splotchy.

Steve knew instantly that she was going to cry.

"Oh come on now--" Billy deadpanned. "The water works? Seriously?"

"Don't wanna take a bath."

And Steve was a push-over when it came to those tears. He made a delicate, comforting Omegan sound in the back of his throat and Billy shook his head. "Don't you start," He said roughly. 

"Bill, we can't just--"

He shook his head again, jaw set. "It's a _bath,_ Steve. I don't understand what the big deal is."

Steve held out his arms, sighing as their stinky little bean climbed up his torso. Steve rocked her back and forth, ignoring the exhausted drag of Billy's hand across his eyes. Steve cooed, chest rumbling against Clementine's ear, and almost collapsed when she gave one in return.

So she still needed him.

Not a huge gesture, but. Appreciated all the same.

Steve kissed her forehead. "We can't push her to do things that make her uncomfortable. Maybe we can work something out."

Billy groaned.

"Clem goes to school tomorrow smelling like this and Principal Hawthorne will phone home for sure." 

"So we call in sick."

Billy stared at him, incredulous. "So you're suggesting we lie to the government now, is that...?"

"Relax, stick-in-the-mud, our kids have perfect attendance," Steve chuckled. Because they did. Billy had been on the honor-roll in high school, ever the model for duality in life; knew how to study hard and party harder. Never missed a day, if memory serves.

Education was important to Billy so their kids went to school, come hell or high water.

And Steve usually went with it, though he was no stranger to mental health days. Billy was around to keep the pups in line and he was stellar at it, so. Steve didn't see a reason to interfere with shit like discipline.

This, though? Clementine crying over having to take a bath. Sticking to her guns like it was a last resort?

That was Steve's area and he just knew it:

Something else was going on.

He shrugged his shoulders, kissing Clem's head again as she dozed against his shoulder. "Maybe she just needs a day?"

Billy stood with his hands on his hips, resolve cracking to dust like old cement as his husband rocked their daughter to sleep in his arms.

Steve was a fucking model parent. 

Always knew the right things to say, what to do, where Billy usually fell apart as soon as it came time to provide comfort. Maybe it was just the Omega in him but Billy thought Steve was made for this shit. He was the brains behind the operation while Billy provided the muscle. He was there to clean the wounds and teach the lessons--Steve was there to comfort.

And as Clementine snuggled against the Omega's neck, chortling with deep relief, Billy gave in.

He smacked Steve with his towel. "All right, Harrington--"

"We've been married for ten years and you're calling me Harrington?" He asked flatly.

Which Billy ignored. "She bathes tomorrow. Come hell or high water. I don't care what you have to do, what kinda magic _spell_ you gotta cast--our daughter is taking a bath tomorrow night."

Steve laughed as Billy stormed from the room, wondering sweetly when his Alpha became such a push over.

\--

The answer came from the most unlikely of Steve's resources.

Nancy called for their weekly chat early that morning over laundry. Clementine was playing house with Poptart, banging pots empty and pans in the kitchen while she pretended to cook him breakfast. She was using scraps of carrot, feeding them to Poptart in a fork as Steve hounded her to _keep it down._

She didn't.

"God, these kids are driving me friggen insane," Steve sighed, throwing Billy's tie into the basket with a little too much force. "Did I tell you about our latest development?"

Nancy yanked the phone away to yell at her three pups.

When she leaned back in to speak, Steve was laughing.

"Oh no, what happened," Nancy asked dully.

"Clem is refusing to take a bath. Says it's baby stuff."

"Wait, _seriously?"_ Nancy asked. Steve nodded, realizing a second too late that she couldn't see him, so:

"Yup."

From somewhere in the kitchen a pot fell to the floor. Poptart immediately went feral. Steve listened as Clementine calmed him down, mimicking things Steve had done in the past. His heart swelled at the noises she made, ever the careful nurturer.

Maybe she would present Omega.

Nothing would make Steve more proud. Nancy chuckled, snapping him back to earth. "Have you told her about the wonder of showers?"

Which, no. But.

"She'd never go for that," Steve chortled. "You know she hates thunderstorms. Can't imagine that'd go over well."

Nancy sighed. "You Omega's, always focused on _creating safe spaces_ for the pups to walk all over you."

"Fuck off." Steve deadpanned.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "And lemme guess. Billy's first response was to muscle is way through this one?" Steve hummed an affirmative. "Typical Alpha." Nancy concluded sadly.

Steve sighed, putting his head in his hands.

"I just. I don't know what to _do._ Billy and I are the fuckin' dream team, we get these kids to bed on time every night. Make 'em eat their vegetables, floss before leaving for school." He shrugged his shoulders, remembering again that no one could see him. "I don't understand why this time's different."

"Clem's a force of nature." Nancy said.

And it was true. Every bit her father's daughter she would fight them tooth and nail about this if they let her. Steve took a deep breath. "Thanks, that's very helpful."

"Look, do you want my advice, Steve?"

He nodded again.

Then; "Yeah, that's kinda why I brought it up."

Nancy laughed, something crashing to the floor behind her.

She screamed at her pups to _knock it off_ and then, to Steve; "Jesus, _fuck._ Got room for three more? Since you and Billy are the dream team?"

"Those hell demons?" Steve winced. "Not on your life, Wheeler."

Nancy laughed, bright and happy, and told him what to do.

\--

A food fight.

Steve kind of thought they'd have to take the brats out back and like, _hose them off_ before filling the tub with water and for once he was grateful for the heat of May. Billy winced at the idea when Steve pulled him aside before dinner.

"Spaghettis?" Billy whistled low. "Couldn't have chosen something easier like a fruit platter?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Just go with it."

From inside the dining room Samuel complained that he was hungry and Clementine told him to _be patient._ Maybe all this growing up wouldn't be so bad, Steve thought. He ran a hand through Billy's hair and grinned. "Once we solve this problem I'll help you in the shower."

Billy's cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and Steve knew he was in.

\--

She had a condition.

Poptart took a bath with her, or it was no dice. Steve had to convince Billy that it was better than nothing--that he'd take Clementine smelling like wet dog over that weird sugar-sour kid smell she had clinging to her skin. 

So, Billy folded.

That's how it happened. Clementine and Poptart trapped together in their clawfoot bathtub with bubbles in their hair. Steve made sure they were comfortable and turned to leave when her tiny voice pinned him in place.

"Would you play shipwreck with me, Dad?"

He leaned against the doorframe. Tried to play it cool. 

"Thought you were too big for dolls now." Steve failed miserably. His voice shook as Clementine shrugged her shoulders.

"I could go a round."

And Steve knew she was growing up, but. At least he still had time to accept it.


End file.
